


Darkest Drabbles

by RogaZora



Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Other, Prostitution, nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2019-10-12 19:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17473979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogaZora/pseuds/RogaZora
Summary: A collection of drabbles and short (and I do mean short) stories I wrote about the various characters in my Darkest Dungeon playthrough. I couldn’t help but imagine little backstories for them. This includes characters with modded skins, like the Raven Witch/Fiend, Ghoul Abomination, Condena Vestal and others.





	1. Drabble List and Summaries

**Author's Note:**

> 1st drabble: The Heir wants the returning party to relieve some stress after a victory. The team’s Abomination isn’t quite happy with where they’re told to go.  
> Characters: Abomination (M), Heir (mentioned), Caretaker (mentioned) and brothel workers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tend to write in 1st person POV/stream of consciousness, meaning the first person on the list of characters in the chapter description is usually the one whose POV the drabble is written in.  
> Example: The 1st chapter is written in the Abomination's POV.
> 
> Since some of the characters' stories revolve around modded content, such as skins, I'll mention the specific mods into the notes of each chapter.

Chapter 1: The Heir wants the returning party to relieve some stress after a victory. The team’s Abomination isn’t quite happy with where they’re told to go.  
Characters: Abomination (Male), Heir, Caretaker, Tavern prostitute(s)

Chapter 2: The Raven Witch (abomination skin) spends some quality time with her paramour.  
Characters: Abomination (Female), Flagellant

Chapter 3: The Vestal suffers a new kind of affliction after an expedition even deeper within the Ruins. Perhaps moving so close to the mansion and its Darkest Dungeon was not such a wise decision.  
Characters: Vestal, others (mentioned)

Chapter 4: The Hamlet requires more funds and so the party is sent into the Weald to find what they can and to clear out more roads for traders and their stage coach. With their pockets and bags overflowing, they are met with a hard decision- one which every expedition faces sooner or later.  
Characters: Bounty hunter, Occultist, Antiquarian, Highwayman, Weald enemies

Chapter 5: The Hamlet is rebuilt. This calls for a celebration!  
Characters: none specific 

Chapter 6: An Occultist looks over his research and contemplates his friend's condition.  
Characters: Occultist,  
Vestal (mentioned), Abomination(s) (mentioned)


	2. Chapter 2

Another delve into the deeper part of the Ruins, another successful extermination. But only just. The last remaining Necromancer had built a sizeable army to guard him, while he stayed in his hole and reanimated more mindless shambling corpses to do his bidding. 

The thought that the Cult created me for a similar purpose leaves a bitter taste in my mouth and I’m quite sure it isn’t the regular bile I’m used to spitting at my enemies. Had I stayed in my cell for much longer I would have most likely been no different than the other abominations. Collared, like dogs. Trained to protect the cultist priest of the highest order while they go about their business of calling forth unimaginable horrors from beyond the Veil. 

I am as free as I can be now and there is no use in dwelling on the past when the present brings a much more immediate dread. The Heir has given us leave to relieve some of our stress as reward for slaying another difficult foe. Yet the very place we were directed to visit has my stomach churning. I just want to go back to my camp outside of the hamlet. At least there I would not have to face the stares nor the smell of fear mingling with the reek of alcohol and dizzying perfumes. 

Their lack of surprise tells me that the Heir or perhaps the Caretaker notified them of our arrival ahead of time. Which would explain this one’s behaviour. From the moment we arrived this one kept on a pleasant persona, faced us with an unfaltering smile and joined the others in the reception room. It is there we were to make our choice. 

As the others picked their partners for the evening, I couldn’t help but wish I had gone to the Abbey, citing my need to calm the Beast as reason for my refusal to this most generous offer. 

When it was finally my turn, I copied my teammate’s actions. Examining a few of the persons standing before me. I did my best to ignore the ones who seemed to fear me most. They were good actors, I must admit. I would have been fooled were it not for my keen sense of smell and having learned to study the form of all I encountered in my long life. I had no idea as to what I was supposed to be looking for until I stood before one who appeared most unaffected by my presence. The very same one from before, still smiling. Surprisingly, I couldn’t sense anything from them. Only the scents of subtle perfumes and a whiff of incense. I stood there dumbfounded for what felt like an eternity before I was reminded that I had to make a choice. 

And so, we find ourselves here. In an upstairs room that is covered almost completely in drapes, pillows and other varieties of comfortable coverings. 

I'm not sure if the smiles are genuine. To be perfectly honest, I do not care to know. 

I am asked what I want, so I state it. Just someone to hold me.

That is enough.


	3. The Witch and the Zealot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Raven Witch (abomination skin) spends some quality time with her paramour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Abomination (F) and Flagellant (M)

It is dark and cold out here, so far from the Hamlet, away from prying eyes. The sounds of the forest seem muted this evening. Almost as if every raptor, insect and rodent suspect a larger predator in their midst. Unfortunately, the very air is as revolting as ever. Dank and suffocating. You can almost make out the spores floating about if your eyesight happens to be sharp enough. 

It should be uncomfortable, but I am loath to move from my spot. Our combined body heat makes it hard to even consider getting up and walking back to the hamlet. Just the thought of it makes me shiver and burry my face into the crook of his neck. 

“You’re worried about your friend” he states more than asks and moves the palm of his hand comfortingly over my right arm. His hand repeats the motion a few times then remains on my shoulder.

“I am. You should have seen him when he told me where the Heir wanted him to go. I don’t think They realise just what a place like that does to people like us. I can barely stand the training grounds on the best of days, let alone a place as crowded as the tavern.”  
My voice is little more than a murmur as I answer him. Though not what I was thinking before he asked me, it is no less true. The sense of eyes always watching, burning the back of your head never fail to make even the hamlet’s most open spaces feel as if they are too small. The surrounding houses seemingly be built too closely together leaving just enough room for a single chariot to move by; the cacophony of voices, the mingled scent of everyone in town... And should you look around to try and find the culprit watchers, you are always met with the sight of townsfolk doing their best to look busy. 

It is really no wonder why so many of your kind are loath to leave the Outsiders Bonfire.

I am brought back before my thoughts stray even further down their depressing pat by his arm pulling me further in. Until I am lying almost completely on top of him and he now has both arms wrapped around me. The comfort these actions give me are beyond description. I’d never thought I would ever fell this way again. Least of all for someone like him. 

It took so long for the other followers of the Light to accept our mere presence in the hamlet. They ignored us at best, sneered and taunted at worst. Only he approached us and treated us like people, asking us how we came to be what we are. And so, we did. Perhaps because he was the only one to offer us kind words or perhaps, because we saw a kindred outcast in him. I’ll never forget that look of contemplation on his face and seeing it slowly light up with the fire of determination. Or maybe that was just the campfire’s light playing tricks. Regardless, I almost thought him endearing until he jumped up and all but shouted: ‘Then I shall drag you into the Light and carry your sins as my burden!’. Then I was just confused.  
It turned out that his were not just empty words. He followed up on them with his actions- he joined our expeditions parties, fought with us, bled with us- bled _for_ us. He was radiant. 

I really am well and truly smitten, aren’t I? Look at me, older than a human has any right to be yet I act and think like a blushing maiden infatuated for the very first time. 

Well, perhaps not quite like that. There is a lingering possessive hunger there due to the beast blood. I crave everything he has to offer me. Every look, every spoken word, touch and caress. Every scratch and bite we inflict upon each other in our frenzy. It is all so _addicting_. Not to mention messy. There’s a reason we must slink away far into the Weald, away from prying eyes… and ears. Luckily returning to the hamlet needs no such secrecy. The bloodied tatters that remain of our clothes and the various claw and teeth marks upon our bodies can easily be explained away as the result of an unexpected skirmish on an unlucky patrol. ‘But not to worry friend, we chased off what fiends we encountered’. 

Not by battle, but they need not be privy to that little fact.

“Insatiable.” 

Huh? I startle and glance up at him. I have to push myself slightly up to do this. It is then I notice that I had grown the nails of my hands and dug them into his shoulders. Not enough to pierce his skin but… Oh, how embarrassing. This sort of thing usually happens during the prelude to acts of a more… carnal nature. 

I would have hidden my no doubt blushing face back under his chin had he not lifted mine with his hand. At least he’s more amused than annoyed, judging by the look in his eyes. And what wonderful dark pools they are. 

Ahem.

“I- um, I didn’t mean-“ 

I can’t even utter a complete sentence as he’s practically shaking in amusement, which in turn jostles me around. 

“You are simply adorable sometimes” he stated with such softness I nearly melted “but I’m afraid we’ll be missed if we remain here much longer.” 

The disappointment must have been apparent on my face since he merely chuckled and remained otherwise unmoving. Ah, but he is right. While the inhabitants of the hamlet and our fellow fortune-seekers try their best to ignore us for the most part, any prolonged absence would surely be noted. 

So, it is with great reluctance that I slowly get off my comfortable spot. I can’t help but regret it instantly. I already miss the warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's pretend that the abomination's chains and flagellant's wird neck collar don't get in the way of... pretty much everything described here lol  
> This drabble is my very first attempt at fluff (and honestly, I think it shows). It was fun writing it though.


	4. Sentenced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Vestal suffers a new kind of affliction after an expedition even deeper within the Ruins. Perhaps moving so close to the mansion and its Darkest Dungeon was not such a wise decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: Vestal (Touchet) with the Condena skin

_‘We knew the risks. We must accept the consequences.’_

_‘We knew the risks? We knew shite! This was not part of the deal! The deal was-‘_

_‘There’s nothing more to be done here. I’m willing to risk my life, but my humanity? That’s off the table!’ ___

____

Humanity. Strange, is it not? She still _felt_ human, just as she did yesterday and the day before that. Would that not make her human still?

Regardless of the answer, another question prevails despite everything. The question of _why_ this happened. Not so much _how_ , they have witnessed enough curiosities and unexplainable phenomena in their few weeks- or has it been months, a year? - that they know that asking how something like this came to be was simply…inane. 

_Why_

Because her faith was not strong enough? Or is this meant to be some form of cruel punishment for a Sin that had gone unrepented until now? For not tending to her duties and letting the flame go out… The usual punishment for such horrific negligence was death. It had nearly torn the Temple of Light and the Collegium apart. Their argued… just like Touchet’s party is still doing outside her room. She should have been executed that day, instead the schism within the community her actions caused allowed for a generous window of opportunity for escape. One she was not hesitant enough to take advantage of. 

That seems to be the most logical answer. Otherwise it allows for a more frightening one to take its place. The mere thought of it makes most humans recoil. The thought… that this happened without any real reason at all. It just happened _because it could_.  
And here she is now. Sitting in a chair in the middle of a dark room. With only the stone walls and a cot in the corner for company. Not nearly enough to keep her attention away from the voices and the incessant itch beneath her skin.  
One would surely go insane given enough time. It is understandable then, why she turned to familiar comforts. Anything to keep the gnawing uncertainty at bay. If you listen closely you can in fact hear her mutterings under her breath.

‘Deliver me, oh holy Flame- no that’s not the right one. Perhaps…’

‘When health vanes- That’s not it either. Verse number LXVIII… How does it go again?’

Honestly, I don’t think it even matters anymore and neither does she- if she would ever admit that to herself anytime soon. This is quite obviously a Sign or perhaps some form of karmic justice. For all the times she sneered and turned her back on the heathens outside for forsaking the Light. Now she’ll be forced to join their ranks. The Abbot, good man that he is, will surely think of ways to get her inside the Abbey and keep her away from the hamlet folk’s notice while she continues her service, but for everything else? That’s for her to figure out it seems. 

She will no longer be able to sleep in her shared quarters inside the barracks for fear of the others seeing her sorry state. Nor will she able to enjoy an evening meal with the company for that very same reason. They would lose their appetites at the sight of her.  
The Outsiders are the most likely to offer her a place, should they not begrudge her earlier behaviour. How ironic.

On further thought, however, even they might require some form of payment in return for their care. No doubt the cultists and that witch among them will jump at the chance to further their studies of transmogrified monstrosities. 

So deep was she in her contemplation of her possible futures that she did not even notice that the arguing voices had ceased, driven away by a domineering presence. Nor did she notice the heavy metal door creaking open just enough to deliver a packaged present before closing again. But when she did finally rouse from her prayers and hopes the obviously out of place bundle, lying innocently on the floor, instantly caught her eye(s?).  
She approached it with a hesitant few steps and pulled apart the string tying it all together. Once unbound, she found a neatly folded dress and veil along with a note. **‘we hope to see you by the firepit. PS: the flower crown was the hamlet kids’ idea’**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to write differently than my usual style of 1st person POV/ stream of consciousness. It was kind of a challenge tbh and you can see that I gave up in the end. Otherwise I never would've been done. It's not 1st person at least, so there's that lol  
> Hope you enjoyed so far


	5. Difficult Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hamlet requires more funds and so the party is sent into the Weald to find what they can and to clear out more roads for traders and their stage coach. With their pockets and bags overflowing, they are met with a hard decision- one which every expedition faces sooner or later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Bounty hunter, Occultist, Antiquarian, Highwayman, Weald enemies  
> None of them have names in this chapter. They are simply referred to by their occupation (apart from the Occultist- Bartholomew who might show up in a later drabble).

As another enemy fell the group took the chance to catch their breath and pocket any items carried by the infected victim. It was fortunate for them that many of the foes in the Weald were wanted bandits and other ne’er-do-wells, though less fortunate for the criminals. The moment they entered the Weald, its corrupted air began its work. It entered their bodies through their lungs where spores took hold and spread into their blood. It was only a matter of time before they became no more than zombies puppeteered by parasitic fungal growths. It is why he and his party covered their mouths and noses with a generous layer of scarves and neckerchiefs. He even took advice from one of the plague doctors and placed select herbs within the folds to help filter the pungent air. The only party member not covered up as the rest was the Occultist, Bartholomew, claiming his protective charms and blessings from the Beast would keep him safe. He was sceptical but let him be. Should he prove to be a liability, no one here will hesitate to strike him down or leave him behind. He made sure the old man was aware of that. 

The time for rest was over and they needed to press on. He watched the Antiquarian take one last look over their make-shift camping site for any trinkets or coins she might have missed. He doubted it. Her magpie like eyes never failed to find valuables in even the most unexpected places. A useful talent, especially for this expedition. They’d been fortunate so far. Should they gain even a quarter of what they’d already collected, they’ll undoubtedly be forced to abandon some of the riches, lest it over encumber them.

They made quick work of the camp. The embers were covered with sand and dirt and their mats were rolled up and placed atop their packs. It was time to press on with him taking the lead for once. 

So far so good. 

The Highwayman had been gracious enough to scout out some of the nearby paths which had allowed to make optimal battle plans for every possible scenario. 

This made things easier, though still challenging. They did after all have to fight their way through some of small clearings in this dense jungle of a forest. He’d been correct in his worry that they would need to leave some of their treasures behind. While the Hamlet needed busts and portraits to hasten its repairs and bolster its economy, their lives took precedent. They could not be expected to fight while weighed down.

They were almost there. Only a few more roads to clear out and they could return to the Hamlet. With a loud snap and a crackle his torch lit up thereby illuminating the path ahead. Spirits were undoubtedly high, as was impatience, which was highly obvious in the hurried steps they all took. All to reach their goal that much faster. 

Luck has run out. 

In all fairness, they should have expected it, or rather some inner part of them did. Perhaps that was the true reason for the hurry and not the promise of a safe return. For blocking their path, was a giant beast of a man, carrying an entire tree trunk upon one shoulder. The lumbering monster seemed not of the intelligent sort, so they need only to keep out of its reach and they should come out unscathed. His strategy was met with approval by the others and so the fight began. 

They all kept their distance, staying well away from the fungal thrall and his makeshift weapon, all the while landing blow upon blow with their pistols, traps and obscuring its vision with smoke. And should anyone fall too close for comfort they were immediately saved by an enormous tentacle-like appendage that pushed the enemy away. Still their adversary would not fall, and so it became a battle of endurance.

It only took one misstep. That is how quickly things could turn for the worse in this accursed place. The constant back and forth put just enough strain on his already tired muscles, slowing him down just enough that he couldn’t safely evade another attack. The infested goliath had swung its tree with all its force. It was quite frankly a miracle that he’d survived the blow or remained conscious, for that matter. What sight he still had, edges clouded as they were, he could see the Occultist beseeching his master for healing. 

And that is when the situation went from worse to horrid. One of the Virago, those hateful things, had stepped out of the shadows and grew its Necrotic Fungi all around their little battle field. 

He doesn’t know whether his companions fought valiantly or if they struck and ran with mad desperation. He was too concussed and too tired to even process what he was seeing anymore. His ears were ringing, and he could feel his heart hammering so loudly within his chest, that he was surprised it hadn’t torn a hole out of his torso yet. At least they were victorious. 

Though now another problem reared its head. What should they take back? 

The treasure they had collected, which was the entire point of this expedition… or him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a beta, so if you find any spelling mistakes or otherwise in any of the chapters, please tell me.
> 
> I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't fall back asleep, so my mind decided to conjure up a story. I had about 3/4 of it planed out before I finally fell back asleep lol. Hope you enjoyed!


	6. Revelry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hamlet is rebuilt. This calls for a celebration!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All heroes (implied)

The party at the newly built Outsiders Bonfire was in full swing. There was music, laughter, people crowing about their achievements and the various challenges they’d overcome, and there were already quite a few drunk enough to dance merrily around the fire. There was fun to be had for all around. And why wouldn’t there be? The Hamlet was finally restored to an approximation of its former glory. The districts, which had each taken copious amounts of resources and days of laborious work, had been rebuilt, traders and coaches could now freely move along the repaved roads and former residents were slowly returning to their family’s ancestral homes. 

Normally, this much good fortune was immediately followed by disaster. Usually in the form of entire expeditions being struck down in quick succession by some new horror hiding in the dark. But for once, no one seemed bothered. There was no paranoia underlying the happiness, evident in the fact that none were shying away from a companion’s embrace. The lines on their faces were surprisingly hidden by the firelight and no one was clutching their food like a beast after weeks of starvation. 

What’s more, everyone was included in the celebration. There were no more clear-cut lines between the various cliques separating the religious, the scientific and the pragmatic. Instead, all heroes were mingling freely amongst each other. Even the pariahs. It was as if everyone had collectively decided to abandon their prejudices, if only for a night. It was… a welcome change of pace. 

They would need more beer if they wanted to keep going though. The tavern might still have a few kegs to spare.


	7. Weakening the Curse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Occultist looks over his research and contemplates the condition of his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Occultist,  
> Vestal (mentioned), Abomination(s) (mentioned)

This new strain of affliction was highly fascinating. Whatever experiments were run by the previous Lord of these lands breached nearly every known law of nature. The very boundaries between spiritual intent and the flesh that contained it were systematically twisted and bent, until all that remained of the subject’s original being was unrecognisable. Such amalgamations, when done properly, were decent vessels for whatever bearers of cosmic knowledge the man known as the Ancestor tried to form a pact with. But they still left much to be desired. For one, their physical form was ever changing. The person’s will inhabiting it taking a too dominant side in their bond, which led to it near constantly shaping and reshaping flesh and bone to better suit its momentary needs. Despite such a feat being the very goal of the entire endeavour, the problem lay in the complexities of the spirit: its guidance of the flesh being a mere instinctual push instead of a conscious command. The first attempts at such a joining of mind and body were crude and uninspired. As if done by one who had insufficient knowledge of either mind or body. The later ones on the other hand, were far more balanced. A union of mind and body much closer to perfection with neither side claiming dominance over the other until a situation calls for it. 

Unfortunately, not all laws could be ignored. Flesh and bone are far more malleable and are bound by less rigorous rules. The mind on the other hand is a complex nexus held in check by its own set of defensive mechanisms, levels of consciousness and modes of perception. If even one of its rules were broken instead of delicately bent in just the right way, the consequences could prove to be catastrophic. The mind would flay itself immediately or erase entire processes necessary for proper functionality, leaving either a vegetative body or a mass of naught but instinct and confusion. Thus, the delicate equilibrium would be shattered, and you’d have to try again with another subject.

At least, that is what he could glean from the Ancestor’s faded scribbles on crumbling parchment, supplemented by his own studies into such practices. There was still much left unanswered, though. The writing, when legible, was often covered up by… unsavoury fluids, the origin of which he’d rather not think about. Not to mention that any notes recovered, were left purposefully vague. Most likely due to the author’s growing paranoia and instability. 

In any case, whatever scraps of information could be gathered shall be invaluable in their attempt at reversing these unholy afflictions, inflicted upon his very team mates. Thankfully the entire Hamlet seems to, for once, support his work. No doubt recognising that despite their recent jovial spirits, it would only be a matter of time before the ever-growing population of fiends and abominations give rise to another Fanatic. Hopefully it would not come to that… 

But back to the task at hand… some key pieces are still missing. Without knowing what exactly the former Lord tried to summon there is no way to properly prepare the ritual. Or if any ritual could be done at all. Different otherworldly beings required different amounts of the still present will to keep its vessel’s body in check after all. The recently changed Vestal girl for example…. Her mind was left mostly intact with the summoned creature playing a more passive role- unlike the other abominations. The body, however, displays some of the problems mentioned in the notes. Her skin and limbs constantly changing, not necessarily for her benefit, without the poor thing even realising it was happening. Not to mention that ‘itch’ she complained about a few times… Hmm, she still warrants further observation. For all we know, her passenger might not remain so passive for long. 

Regardless, they would need to venture out again in hope of finding any new pieces to this puzzle.

So much depends on it. He just knows it…

And perhaps, leaving the Hamlet for a short expedition might do his friends some good for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one gave me a bit of trouble mainly because I wasn't sure if I'd managed to not make the entire first part of the drabble confusing as all get out.


End file.
